PS 3535 
.P35 06 
1920 
Copy 1 



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THE 
OLD ARM CHAIR 



AND OTHER 



Eramm 



UK 



BY 



MRS. JOHN N. RAGSDALE 




PRICE 30 CENTS 



Published and sold by 

MRS. JOHN N. RAGSDALE 

Author and Pi^blisher 

Danville, Va. 

Agents Wanted Everyv/here 



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THE 
OLD ARM CHAIR 

AND OTHER 

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MRS. JOHN N. RAGSDALE 







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PRICE 30 CENTS 

Published and sold by 
MRS. JOHN^ N. RAGSDALE 

Author and Publisher 

Danville, Va. 

Agents Wanted Everywhere 




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COPYRIGHTED 

by 

Mrs, John N, Ragsdale 

Danville, Va, 

1920. 



JAN 29 1920 



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A FOREWORD. 



In presenting this little volume of 
poems to the world, the author 
wishes to apologize for every error 
the critic may find, and also call at- 
tention to the fact that it was writ- 
ten from a heart throbbing with ten- 
der love and pity. 



THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. 



See that form in the corner there, 
All crumpled down in the old arm-chair? 
*Twas once a bride, full of frolic and glee. 
And just as happy as one could be. 
But many a summer hath come and gone, 
And many a winter with its sleet and storm: 
And many a care too hard to bear, 
Hath passed over this form in the old arm- 
chair. 
Now this is all we have left here today, 
Only the worn and faded clay: 
The eyes which once did sparkle with glee. 
Are faded and sunken and can hardly see: 
And the cheeks, though once so plump and fair 
Are withered and wrinkled till they don't com- 
pare ; 
And the beautiful head of well set hair, 
Hath turned to white, what there is left there. 
But memory still doth around her twine. 
And counts each babe, and calls it **Mine'*: 
And traces back each day and date 
When they w^ere added to her loving pate. 
She names them all, yes, one by one, 
And tells of the wonderful things they have 

done: 
And her heart still lives where ever they dwell, 
For she loves them better than tongue can tell. 
But soon this form will cease to be, i 

And the old arm-chair no more we'll see: 1 

(9) 



For Mother Earth will claim this clay, 
To await the hastening Judgment day. 
And the friends around her grave will tread 
So tender and soft, for they say, "She is 

dead'^; 
And the clods of earth w^hich hides her face. 
Are covered with flowers to mark the place. 
And the children to their home will go. 
And view the corner where Mother will sit no 

more. 
*Tis a lonely place now, but so very sweet. 
For there they knelt at mothers dear feet; 
And she laid her hand upon their brow. 
And asked them not to weep for her. 
**For life goes fast," she softly said, 
•*And you too will soon be among the dead." 
So she bade each one a loving good-by. 
And hastened on to her home on high: 
And the life she had lived, and the smile she 

left. 
Made them feel they were not altogether be- 
reft. 
And they lifted their hearts to God above. 
And prayed for grace to walk in love. 
And the prayer, I am sure, was not in vain, 
For mother was now a bride again; 
And standing beside God's Holy Son, 
A part of the Trinity, three in one, 
She heard Him say, '*It shall be done'' 



(10) 



r 



WHY I WROTE "THE OLD ARM-CHAIR'' 



[ On February 27th, 1919, I lay me down to 

^ sleep about ten o'clock at night, but I could 

I not sleep. It seemed to me I was among the 

► sorrowing living and the sleep'ng dead. My 
I second baby had married and gone as a young 

► and happy bride to her new home far from 
f me, and my heart longed for her presence 

► more than tongue could tell: and as I thought 
I of her childhood and honeymoon days and her 
I future prospects of home-building and happi 



^ ness, I also considered how soon Time must 



^ bring her to old age, and the grave, and the 
great judgment. And then I could see the 

^ meaning of life as n^ver before. How the 
darling little baby is placed so lovingly and 
tenderly in the fond mother's arms, and how 

[ sacred and great the love that binds and the 

^ anxious thought and care that watches over 
it sleeping and waking; and how it grows to 
be old enough to leave mother and build a lit- 
tle home nest of its own; and the happy bride, 
and on down to the **01d Arm Chair'' and the 
flower covered mound in the cemetery, etc. ; 
and as the clock on the mantle struck one, 
and all around me was still and silent as 
death, I crept from my bed and reached 
for a pencil and paper and tried to express my 
self, and in a maasure unload my heart. Ard 



(11) 



■y T ^ 



I felt that if I could get this little poem to 
other minds that perhaps more human feel- 
ing and tender love would be extended to the 
many worn and faded forms in thousands of 
cheerless corners. 

May God bless every reader and teach them 
to be kind and patient with all helpless little 
children and all the aged of this great world 
we must spend our short pilgrimage in. Re- 
member, as we sow v/e shall certainly reap. If 
we are kind and tender to our children they 
will not be cruel to us in our feeble old age; . 
but if we beat them and quarrel at them with i 
a wicked, merciless spii it, vre mr.y count on j 
it, nine times out of ten they will pay us well i 
with the same. ■ 

Beloved reader it is f-ar better to be follow- 
ers of Him who gave his life for us in all hum- 
bleness, patience, and loving kindness one to 
the other. When he, the great life giver, was 
walking among men He took the little children 
up in his arms and put His hands upon them 
and blessed them. And when He was facing 
death upon the cross He made a loving, tender 
request that His dear old mother be cared 
for. 

0, for more of His gentle, thoughtful spirit 
among the children of men. j 

i 



(12) 



^.^.^ 



MOTHER^S LO YE. 



V You may gain a mighty fortune, ^ 

V And may build a bungalow, a 
y You may get great earthly honors j 
I That will reach this wide world o'er; 1 
h You may dwell among ihe lofty, j 
^ And with millionaires may roam, j 
L You may iiit at princes' tables, j 
I And their mansions be vour home; 1 
y But there's one thing I would tell you, 4 
[ Which I'm sure you ought to know, j 
[ You will never find another mother ] 
f That v/ili always love you so. 4 
^ ] 
y But ii on the other hand, j 
y No fame and fortune you ever can command, j 
^ No one seems to love you, 4 
y Or for your comfort take a stand: 4 
[ Your life be spent in poverty, j 
r Bitter pain and Vvoe; i 
^ You cry and moan and wonder 4 
y Why it ever should be so: 
I Then ]Qt m_e tell you, Dearie, 
[ 'Tis the truth I surely know, 
[ You will never find another Mother 
I That will ever love you so. 

y Now no matter v/hcre you wander, 

y And no matter where you roam, 



4 



(ioj 



No matter if you gain a fortune, 
Or have no place to call your home; 
Let me plead as one who loves you 
As no other friend can do, 
Stop and listen to my pleading, 
For I'm sure 'tis good for you: 
Always turn your back on evil, 
Hate it, scorn it, pass it by; 
Seek the things of God and Heaven, 
And be exatled in the sky. 



-^^m^^m"^ 



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(14) 



I MY BIRDIE. 

y 

h While feeding my Birdies this morning, 

I I noticed one failed to appear: 

t I cried, and I chirped, and I moaned, 

► But some how it never came near. 

y where is my Birdie so lovely, 

V The one that ever stayed near? 

y The one that always remembered, 

[ That Mother was needing a cheer? 



Some one has captured my Birdie, 
And taken it far away; 
I fear I shall never more see it, 
Till God's great Judgment day. 



^ Will the one who has taken my Birdie, 

^ Ever be faithful and true? 

^ Will he pet it, and love it, and keep it, 

^ As kindly as I would do? 

y When its beautiful plumage has faded, 

y And its eyes cease to sparkle like dew; 

y Will the one who has taken my Birdie, 

y Still be loving and true? 

f God, take care of my Birdie, 

t Where ever on Earth it may dwell; 

V Cover it with all of Thy mercies, 

► And use it Thy blessings to tell. 

[ :. j 

(15) 



' ■'T-^'-r^-^r -v— T- ■ 



"My Birdie'* was written the 

first Sabbath niorrring after 

my second baby had married 

and gone from borne. After 

breakfast was over and the 

other children had gone from 

the roo;n my heart longed my 

much for the little girl off 

on her honey moon and to her 

new home. Every thing I 

looked at filled my mind with 

fond memories, and the burn- ^ 

ing love for her present and 

future burst forth from my 

soul in the words of this ^ 

little poem. 4 



■t. A. A A A A, A A A A, A> »>A.rf»AA.A. -A-A^>J--.8^A- JL .H, .* .A^-A. A_A. ^-^ 



(iu) 



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MY FLOWER AND L 



A beautiful flower was planted 

In a garden over the sea; 

'Twas filled with the fragrance of 

Heaven, 
And Jesus sent it to me. 

I knew it was great, and I loved it, 
And planted it in a row 
V/ith a number of other flowers, 
That I was trying to grow. 

But it would not bear to be crowded. 
And I soon began to see 
That my lovely Heaven sent flower, 
Was going to cease to be. 

So I watered it day and night, 
With the tears from my very heart, 
And prayed as I never prayed before. 
To gro^v it would take a start. 

There was nothing I knew to do 
That I dared to leave undone: 
For I longed for the life of my flower, 
Above all things under the sun. 

[ So I taken out of my garden, 

P All other plants one by one, 

^ And threw them out to perish, 

f And shouted to see it done. 



y 



And I prayed that God in pity 
My flower would make to grow; 
For I could not live without it. 
I had learned to love it so. 

And now I am filled with joy, 
As no mortal tongue can tell; 
For I and my beautiful flower. 
Together shall ever dwell. 

We ask no greater pleasure, 
Than to live in Earth below; 
And when its joys are ended, 
To Heaven we shall go. 



This little poem was written in rcgaad 
to the courtship and marriage of my 
second precious baby and her husband, 
who is a native of far-away Syria, and 
much beloved by all of us. 



TT ■W 



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W^^A^^A.A.A.A.M.A.A.A.A.A.M.A.^^A.^^A.A.M.^M. A. A A^AAA^AAA... . A ^ 

(18) 



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GOOD-BY. 



Good-by SPEIR, our precious brother, 
Comrade, friend, and loving son: 
We shall never more be with thee, 
*Till life's trials all are done. 

You have been to us so faithful, 
Always tender, kind, and true; 
In our joy you added sunshine, 
In our grief, refreshing dew. 

We shall miss you, dearest brother, i 

We shall miss your smiling face; j 

And our hearts are almost broken, ^ 

For no one can take your place. ^ 

Why you have been taken from us, 

God alone can truly tell: 

But some day we'll meet the murderer, ^ 

Of the one we loved so well. 

Seems so hard to say good-by, SPEIR, 
Seems too cruel to be true: 
For we long to have you with us. 
As w^e ever used to do. 

Only God can give us comfort, 
In this hour of grief and pain: 
He alone can heal our heartaches. 
Till we see thy face again. 



(l») 



So we cover thee with flowers, 
' As we say a last good-by: 

^ And we hope some day to greet thee, 

In a home beyond the sky. 



Respectful!)' dedicated to the bereaved 
family and friends of Spier Matney, the 
young Syrian who was foully murdered 
alone in his room in Danville, Va., on 
Easter morning, 1919. 



(20) 



[ MOTHER'S GONE. 

y 

t Mother *s gone! Oh how we miss her! 

t Miss her tender loving care; 

1^ Miss the voice that bid us welcome, 

K And that cheered us every where. 

Miss that tender touch of pity 
In our trials great and small; 
And amidst our greatest joys, 
Mother's presence graced them all. 

She was ever thoughtful of us, 
Ever mindful of our needs; 
Ever ready, waiting, watching, 
I To perform for us kind deeds. 

I Every way we turn, we miss her, 

y In the parlor, and the hall. 

I In the yard among the flowers, 

t In the dining room, and all. 

► 11. 1 . 

^ But to-aay she s svv'eetly restmg 

f 'Neath the flowers she loved so well; 

[ And our hearts are sad and lonely, 

^ More than mortal tongue can tell, 

>' 

I We shall never more be with her 

t In this land of grief and pain; 

I We shall never hear the footsteps 

t Of our dearest one again. 
y 

l^ ..^-.^^...^^^^ 

(21) 



-rTT^TT ^wT-TT'^-yr '^ T-^-w^T- 



May the God of grace and comfort, 
Guide and cheer us on our way: 
May He teach us to be faithful, 
And reunite us some sweet day. 



L ^ j^ 



This poem is lovingly dedicated to 
the bereaved family of Mrs. R. M. 
Fox, who fell asleep Nov. 15, 1919. 



(22) 



HEAVEN, 



That has the dance in hand. 



There'll be room enough in Heaven 5 

And we'll have no sorrow there; ^ 

Our bodies will be free from pain, j 

Our hearts be free from care. i 

4 

No lonely hours w^ailing } 

For the loved ones out of sight; ] 

No tear drops thickly falling j 

For the wayward boy at night. j 



I The grandeur of that city i 

l Will lill us with delight: ] 

^ Our days will be all hapiness 1 

t And God shall banish night. i 

y Our rooms shall all be cozy i 

t And we'll have no need of rest: j 

t For we shall never more be weary, i 

I And never be oppressed. j 

I i 

I We'll shout and dance for joy, ^ 

I And the music v/ill be grand: J 

For God will be the Master i 



No ragtime and jazz baby tune, j 

Shall grate upon our car; ^ 

But praises full of glory j 

I From voices strong and clear. i 



i^o) 



The men of that great city J 

Will all be pure and clean; i 

Not one will laugh and tell about 4 

Some naked girl they've seen. i 

And the women too. v/ill all be pure, 
Not one shall be unclean; 
No thought of vice, no look to entice, 
And nothing shall be obscene. 

Then onward, ever onward, 
► Our v/atchword here shall be; 

We are hastening to that City 
To spend Eternity. 

Goodbye old friends and loved ones, 
No more we'll weep for you; 
For the God who gives us Heaven, 
Will heal our sorrows too. 



[This poem was written 
January i7th, 1920 at 2 
o'clock in the morning.] 



(24) 



DO YOUR BIT. 



U A A A 



Some one has a heart that's aching 
And a life all dark and sad: 
Maybe you can send a message 
That will make that som.e one glad. 



[ Just a little word of kindness 

^ Prompted by a heart of love, 

[ May bring life, and joy, and gladness, 

y And bright sunshine from above. 

^ Up! be doingi time is flymg: 

I Men are dying every day; 

I Send a message, bright and cheery, 

I Point them to a better way. 

y 

i Speak a word or do a kindness, 

t Just a sandwich or a rose, 

t And a tender, hearty hand clasp, 

>► With a love that overflows. 



f Don't forget to write a letter 

t To some traveler on life's way; 



Let the postman bear the tidings 
Of your loving thoughts today. 

It will pay you in the long run. 
When the tide rolls back your way; 
For the bread upon the waters 
Will be gathered back some day. 



AAAAAAAA 



(25) 



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